Crooked Cops
by Lugubrious
Summary: After Sara is brutally attacked, Grissom helps her recover in more ways than one.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own them…or do I?

Author's notes: I think that the invention of the swing shift was the dumbest plot path ever, so yeah, it doesn't exist in any of my stories. And WP is hot.

Chapter 1

As Grissom wrote out assignments for his CSIs, he couldn't shake the queasy feeling descending in his gut. A DB for Greg and Warrick, a DB for Catherine and Nick, a B and E for Sara and a night buried under paperwork for me, he thought.

"Well, I never did like paperwork," Grissom said to his pet tarantula. He sighed heavily into his empty office, staring at the mountain of papers perilously close to teetering off of his desk.

"Ugh," he sighed, seeking the freedom of the lab beyond his doorway. He padded toward the break room, where he found Nick with Greg in a headlock.

"Say you're a monkey's uncle!" Nick commanded, laughing as Greg struggled futilely against Nick's iron grip.

"Let me go!" Greg whined, elbowing Nick's thigh.

"Say it!" Nick said, giving Greg a killer noogie.

The other CSIs watched Greg's plight and laughed.

"Fine! I'm a monkey's uncle," Greg gasped.

"I didn't hear that," Nick teased, clearly enjoying the younger CSI's misery.

"I'm a monkey's uncle," Greg yelled, "I'm a monkey's uncle!"

"Now that's better," Nick said, releasing the young CSI who stumbled directly into Grissom.

Greg's immediate embarrassed blush inspired giggles from Sara and Catherine.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Okay. Now that our ritual hazing is over, Greg, Warrick, you have a DB, Cath and Nicky, you also have a DB and Sara, you're solo on a B and E in Westbrooke."

Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Greg left the break room quickly, leaving Sara and Grissom staring at each other in an awkward silence. Sara noticed the slight sheen of sweat on Grissom's brow and the way his fingers unconsciously twirled the paperclip in his hand.

"Are you okay, Griss? You seem…" Sara began.

Grissom cut her off, "I'm fine. Officers are waiting at your scene," he said gruffly, before walking back to his office.

'How does she do that!' he wondered, feeling exposed and uneasy.

Sara shrugged and hurried toward her B and E.


	2. The Crime Scene

CHAPTER 2

When she arrived, Sara felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as a shiver ran down her spine.

'Hmmm, maybe it's cold,' Sara thought, grabbing her kit from the trunk.

As she walked toward the house, her mind turned to its occupants. Their home had been burglarized, violated by someone who only wanted some material object. In the meantime, their sense of security had been obliterated like a house of cards in a hurricane.

Her mind was so occupied by those thoughts that she barely heard the detective introduce himself,

"Ms. Sidle?" he inquired.

Sara looked up at him, her brown eyes studying his features.

"My name is Jeff, this is Barrett," he said, gesturing to his partner and extending his hand in greeting.

"Sara Sidle, nice to meet you," she said, her eyes flickering over the visible tattoo on Barrett's arm.

"Point of entry appears to be the guest bedroom window," Jeff said. "Must've been some damn kid. Clumsy as hell."

'Nice,' Sara thought. 'Open and shut.'

"Alright," she said, "I might be awhile."

As Sara walked through the front door, her first thought was that this house had been abandoned, like an old person had gone on an errand and died, leaving their possessions behind. The air smelled stale and a layer of dust covered most surfaces.

"That's odd," she said quietly to herself.

She climbed the stairs, nothing with mild surprise that none of them squeaked. Old houses always had creaky stairs.

The pictures on the walls were yellowed. A young woman with long blonde hair stared out at her from the 1970s. Her bellbottoms and peasant top reminded Sara of her own mother.

'Not time for a walk down memory lane, Sidle,' she thought, peaking into the bedrooms.

In the last bedroom in the hall, Sara saw white lace curtains fluttering in the breeze flowing through the open window. She set her kit down and examined the room.

'One window, one door. A bed, but no dressers,' she thought to herself.

She stuck her head out the window. The wall was brick beneath her. 'God, if someone broke in this window, they needed wings or a ladder,' she thought, making herself chuckle.

"What's so funny, doll?" a male voice asked from behind her.


	3. Don't Talk to Strangers

CHAPTER 3

Sara spun around to see the police officers from outside entering the bedroom.

"You guys scared me! At least one of you needs to be out front at all times to secure the scene," she said nervously.

One of the men closed the bedroom door and locked the deadbolt.

'I've never seen a bedroom door with a deadbolt on it,' Sara thought, her stomach in knots.

"Oh Sara, Sara, Sara," Barrett said, advancing toward her, "didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

Sara's eyes widened as Jeff started unbuttoning his shirt. Her heart slammed in her chest. Her thoughts flew at her, 'Oh shit! Sidle, you might be able to take one of them, but both? How the hell did this happen?'

As Barrett moved to grab her, she threw her shoulder into his chest hard. He stumbled back into Jeff and Sara took that opportunity to grab for her gun in her kit. But Barrett was too fast for her and he grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the kit. She yelped as the tendons in her shoulder stretched uncomfortably.

Barrett backhanded her hard across the face, the force of the blow knocking Sara to the floor. Her vision blurred with red and black spots. As soon as Sara hit the floor, she knew that her struggles would be infinitely more difficult.

Barrett threw her on the bed and when she attempted to scramble off of it, Jeff jumped on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs. "Oh no you don't," Jeff said, using his dead weight to pin her down while Barrett grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head.

"You don't have to do this," Sara gasped, still struggling against Jeff's weight.

Jeff smiled. "Baby, I want to," he said, his hands running up and down her chest before he ripped her shirt open completely.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, "Stop!"

Jeff smiled and brought his head down toward hers. "You'll like it, bitch."

Sara took the opportunity to head butt him with all of her strength. He cursed loudly before backhanding her across the face several times. She tasted the salty, dull taste of blood and realized that her lip was split.

Jeff's hand gripped her neck tightly and black spots danced in front of her eyes.

Time seemed to slow down for Sara. In her mind, she kept screaming at them to stop. 'God, please help me. Please don't let this happen.'

Jeff's hands were rough as he shoved her jeans and panties down her legs. His hand tightened on her neck.

'Grissom, where are you? Help! Help! Help!'

His other hand slipped between her legs. It was cold as ice and it snapped her back into action. Her legs snapped together and she struggled as hard as she could against both of them. Barrett's hands were like iron shackles and Jeff's thigh spread hers. She felt like a handicapped mouse running from a cheetah.

"Stop," she rasped.

Jeff laughed and kissed her hard as he tried to enter her.

"God, you're tight," he laughed, spitting on his palm.

Sara bucked against him, but her body was utterly exhausted from fighting them. She closed her eyes.


	4. Saving Sara

CHAPTER 4

Jeff grabbed Sara's head and kissed her firmly, his erection hard against her stomach.

She tried to turn her head away, but his hands held her still.

'God, please don't let this happen,' Sara prayed to herself.

And, as if the angels were listening, a loud crack distracted her assailant.

When the SWAT team burst through the door, everything seemed to blur for Sara. She felt Jeff being hauled roughly off of her. Barrett released her arms. Brutally aware that people were in the room, Sara pulled up her jeans and held her shirt together as best she could.

That was how Grissom found her. Her face was bruised and bleeding. He could see that she had been grabbed by the arms, held by the neck and the wrists. She looked so fragile and scared. It was like there was all of this action going on around her and she couldn't focus on any of it. Seeing her like that broke his heart.

She didn't acknowledge his presence until he wrapped his CSI jacket around her shoulders and sat next to her.

As soon as she saw his eyes, she looked away. Despite her best efforts, her breathing was still choked and choppy. Her body was shaking violently and although she knew that no one here would hurt her, she felt uncomfortable being surrounded by men.

"You're late," she rasped, her voice tight with emotion.

Grissom's face was unreadable. "Sara, I…" He stopped talking when she turned into him and started crying. He wrapped his arms around her.

Grissom whispered comforting words to Sara, feeling new emotions stirring within him. He felt responsible, protective and overwhelmingly attached to her.

"Excuse us sir, we need to examine Ms. Sidle," one of the paramedics said.

Grissom nodded and separated himself from Sara. She looked at him with eyes that made him want to scoop her up and protect her for years.

"Ms. Sidle, my name is Brian." Brian was gentle as he palpated her arms and legs for fractures. He paused briefly on her wrists. He pressed gently on her bones and at one point, she drew her arm back violently.

He looked up, surprised. Grissom irrationally wanted to punch the guy.

"That might be broken," Brian said, smiling as he continued his exam.

He had his partner bring the gurney over. As Sara tried to stand up, she swayed and nearly fell before Grissom supported her, helping her onto the gurney.

As the medics made to move her, she grabbed his arm. "Grissom, ride with us. Please."

He nodded and while it wasn't procedure, the medics didn't object.

In the ambulance, the medic covered Sara with blankets after putting ice on her worst bruises.

Grissom stroked her hair as they rode and her vitals lowered to acceptable levels.


	5. The Hospital

CHAPTER 5

The hospital was brimming with business and something about the sterility made Sara feel like she was a commodity being processed through an assembly line. Nurses came to check on her bruising and her vitals, an resident came by to stitch a cut in her face, and after a few hours, a orthopaedist came in.

"Dr. Assantu," the woman said, frowning at Sara's appearance.

She was gentle, probing Sara's swollen wrist, face and ankle. She asked Sara to rotate her shoulder and frowned again when Sara took in a sharp breath.

"This should come as no surprise, but I'm going to send you for some x-rays."

Sara nodded. Several hours and two plaster casts later, Sara was trying to pay attention as Dr. Assantu spoke to her about the recovery process.

At long last, a gynecologist came into Sara's curtained cube. The man frowned when he saw Sara's battered appearance.

"Hi Sara. My name is Dr. Jakubowski, but uh, you can call me James."

"I wasn't raped," Sara said, so quietly James almost missed it.

"Sara," he sighed, "several people witnessed your assault."

She glared at him. "I lived it. Trust me, if he had," her voice wavered, "I would know."

James nodded. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Are you a therapist or something?" Sara countered, feeling increasingly hostile.

"Sara, I'm a doctor. I just want to make sure that you're okay and that if you have any fluids on you, they're properly collected. Besides, an extra exam will answer the questions you know law enforcement will ask," he said, looking into her face.

She nodded. James explained the exam to her as he went through it, even though he was sure she'd done it a million times. When he went to palpate her breasts for lumps, he paused when he saw the fingerprint bruises there. He drew his hands back. "Make sure to exam your breasts for lumps when they heal," he said softly and she nodded, happy that he was so considerate.

When he was finally done, he gave her the privacy to get dressed before returning to her room.

"Do you believe me now?" She asked bitterly.

"Sara, do you have someone you can stay with?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" She was startled.

"You've been through something very traumatic. You're injured, both physically and psychically." He sighed.

"I'll be fine," Sara grumbled.

Grissom, who had been pacing in the waiting room, chose that particular instant to enter Sara's curtained cube. "I'll be with her, doctor," Grissom said.

Sara looked up at him and realized that he was, indeed, serious.

The doctor nodded. "A month, at the very least."


	6. The Statement

CHAPTER 6

James left the room quickly and before Sara could reject Grissom's hospitality, a high-strung nurse burst into her room with several release forms and written instructions for Sara's outpatient care.

Grissom was impressed with Sara's business-like efficiency as she completed each form. Even after everything that had just happened, her handwriting was neat and her attention to detail was impeccable.

"Brass wanted to know if you would prefer giving a statement at the station or from your house," Grissom said abruptly, his social awkwardness rearing its ugly head.

Sara didn't look up from her paperwork.

'If I go to the station, everyone will know if they don't already,' Sara thought to herself. 'If I have Brass in my house, that memory will live there forever.'

Sara was quiet for so long, Grissom was about to repeat the question when she quietly said, "Let's, uh, why don't we go to my place."

Grissom nodded and as Sara finished the last of her paperwork, he moved to help her get into her wheelchair.

"I got it Griss," she said, rebuffing his chivalry. He watched as she clumsily maneuvered herself into the chair, an impressive feat with two plaster casts.

The ride to Sara's apartment was silent. Grissom stole glances at her every now and then, noticing that the tremor in her hands had returned. The bruises on her face had bloomed to a deep purplish red, emphasized by the darker red clot on her split lip.

Sara's nerves threatened to strangle the sanity from her mind. Grissom, Gil Grissom, the most handsome and utterly sexy man on the planet had volunteered to stay with her for a month. Under any other circumstances, she would be leaping up and down like a minimum wage worker who just hit a million dollar jackpot.

His willingness to stay with her made her feel both annoyed and flattered. If only he could have stayed with her after some other case, on some other day when she would have been able to wrestle him to the ground and have her way with him.

But reality was never so sweet. He was staying with her because she was hurt, because he thought that she couldn't take care of herself. Deep down, Sara was humiliated. She would be forced to recount her attack for Brass, essentially confessing that she had been too weak to fend these guys off. Grissom would know, beyond a doubt that she shouldn't be allowed out alone in the field. She felt like a liability.

Grissom has miscellaneous platitudes and quotations floating through his head, but none seemed appropriate for this situation.

And so, silence reigned until Grissom pulled into the parking lot of Sara's apartment complex.

"I'll help you out," he said, not wanting to repeat the experience of watching Sara vault herself precariously into the front seat of the Tahoe.

Sara swallowed as Grissom grabbed the wheelchair and brought it to her door.

After assessing the situation for a moment, he leaned toward her and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back. Sara immediately inhaled in scent, a mixture of a sweet-musky cologne and some divine Grissom pheromone she found irresistible.

She put her head down as Grissom wheeled her to her apartment, a location he knew because he had driven her home after her DUI.

'God,' she thought, 'he really gets to see me under the best of circumstances.'

Grissom knocked on her door and to Sara's surprise and horror, Brass opened it.

Sara forced her chin up and focused on Brass' tie, a monstrous green and orange blotchy disaster.

Brass was immediately taken back by Sara's appearance. Years of police work helped him mask his reaction, but as his eyes flickered to her neck, her wrists and her casts, Grissom knew the old detective was appalled.

"Sara, I'm sure that you want to get this over as soon as possible and I have everything set up so we can get out of your hair," Brass said, forcing a smile for one of his favorite CSIs.

Sara gave Brass a halfhearted smile. "Thanks Jim," she said quietly.

Grissom wheeled her over to Brass' makeshift interrogation room.

Brass looked up at Grissom. His friend looked sick with worry, concern and something else-guilt? sadness?

"Sara, we can do this anyway you want. It could be just me. Or Grissom can stay as well," Brass said, ignoring Grissom's clenched jaw and piercing blue eyes.

Sara didn't hesitate. "He can stay."

Brass nodded, then leaned forward and flicked on his audio recorder. After reading off the case number and other pertinent information, he looked at Sara.

Her demeanor had changed; she'd gone from the injured victim to the brilliant witness in twenty seconds flat. The first thought that popped into Brass' head: 'Wow, she's done this before.' He ignored it and gave Sara her cue, "Okay Sara, I want you to tell me exactly what happened in as much detail as you possibly can."

Sara nodded. Her brown eyes stared at the audio recorder as she spoke.

"When I arrived on the scene, the officers introduced themselves as Jeff and Barrett. I should have known immediately that they were not legitimate officers because Jeff had a visible tattoo and uniformed officers have to cover their ink."

Brass nodded. He had noticed that flaw in their otherwise pristine imitation as well.

"I went upstairs to find the point of entry, which was the last bedroom in the hallway. Upon examining the window, I was confused about how the breaking and entering had occurred because there was a solid brick wall. I remember thinking to myself that this suspect must have flown through the window. The mental image I had was funny, so I laughed."

Her eyes darkened and she wrapped her good arm around herself.

"When I laughed, someone spoke from behind me and I turned around to see Jeff and Barrett entering the room. I informed them that proper protocol required at least one of them to remain outside at all times."

She hesitated and took a deep breath.

"Barrett started walking toward me and I heard Jeff lock the deadbolt to the door. I thought it was odd that the door even had a deadbolt and I was actually mad at myself for missing that detail on the way into the room. I wasn't sure exactly how to extricate myself from this situation. I decided to surprise Barrett by plowing into him and I did. He stumbled back into Jeff and I went to my kit to try to find my gun as they regained their balance."

Brass was impressed with Sara's composure. He knew the worst was yet to come, but the detail of her account was certainly impressive.

"I, I couldn't find my gun quickly enough and Barrett, who seemed quite unhappy about our previous altercation grabbed my arm," she gestured to her broken arm, "and pulled me to my feet. I was regaining my balance when he hit me and I fell next to the bed. My vision was a little fuzzy for a few seconds and Barrett threw me on the bed."

Grissom lowered his head. He was unsure that he would be able to keep his composure while Sara recounted what happened next. Rage, blinding, white-hot rage coursed through his veins and he had visions of numerous entomological tortures he could inflict on her assailants.

"I knew nothing good could come of that, so I tried to scramble off the bed away from Barrett but I hadn't accounted for Jeff and he tackled me onto the bed. He was lying on top of me like a dead person and I really couldn't get him off. Barrett had climbed to the head of the bed and, with Jeff's help, he managed to get both of my arms pinned above my head."

Sara paused as images and sensations ran through her body. Brass waited and Grissom ground his teeth so hard they started to squeak.

"I protested and told them that I did not want to engage in any kind of amorous activity with them, and…"

Brass interrupted her. "Sara, I know this is hard, but do you recall your exact words?"

She nodded. "I think I said, 'you don't have to do this' and Jeff said that he wanted to," her voice wavered ever so slightly. "And then he ripped open my shirt and started grabbing me, and I asked him to let go of me and to stop."

Grissom rubbed his forehead. If only he had gone with her, she would be okay. He should have double-checked on her location.

"Clearly, he didn't listen and he leaned his head toward me and said, 'you'll like it, bitch.' I took that opportunity to head butt him as hard as I could."

'That's my Sara,' Brass thought to himself. 'Always a fighter.'

"That didn't agree with him and he leaned back and hit me several times, um, at least four times, across the face. It gets a little fuzzy toward the end. I tasted blood and I knew my lip had split. I kept struggling a bit, but I was still reeling from the blows to my head when Jeff grabbed my throat and I could barely see or breath."

Sara seemed to be revealing the crime from a bystander's point of view. Brass saw that often in traumatic crimes. For some, it was a brilliant survival tactic while for others, it was merely a way of avoiding the painful feelings of the crime itself.

"I asked them to stop and, I know that at some point, my pants and stuff were removed. I don't exactly recall when. I do know that Jeff ran his hand up my thigh and touched me. His hand was freezing and it startled me a bit. I figured I should give it my best shot and I struggled as hard as a possibly could, but I just wasn't strong enough to get away from them."

Sara paused and took a drink of water from the mug in front of her. Brass looked heartbroken. He just didn't want to hear that Sara had been raped.

"I was still fighting with them when Jeff leaned down and kissed me while he was trying to penetrate. He had some difficult with that and he spit on his hand for some added lubrication."

Grissom felt like a ferocious tiger stuck inside a kitten. If he were Mike Tyson, these men would be pulp. But his style had always been to win with a more sophisticated method and he vowed to stick to that.

"He leaned down to kiss me again. He held both sides of my head this time so that I would have to kiss him because the last time, I had turned away. At that point, I heard a loud thwack and the SWAT team arrived on the scene. I was treated by paramedics, went to the hospital and here I am."

Sara looked at Brass, who nodded slowly.

"So there was no…"

"No. They didn't have the chance," Sara said.

He stopped the audio recorder. "Sara, if there's anything you need, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call me. My wife made a veggie lasagna for you while you were in the hospital and it's sitting in your fridge. But seriously kid, anything at all."

Sara nodded, touched by Brass' sincerity.

"Thanks Brass."

And with that, Brass gathered his things and left.

Grissom and Sara were alone.


	7. The Treacherous Bathtub

Thanks for the reviews! I love hearing from y'all.

Sara broke the silence first.

"Hey Griss, have you ever broken a bone before?"

His eyes flickered to her plaster casts. "Yeah, um, I broke my wrist when I was 10," he smiled at the memory. "I tripped over a rock."

Sara laughed, picturing Grissom as a child collecting bugs in the forest.

"How about you? I mean, before this." Griss said awkwardly.

Sara swallowed. "Quite a few."

Grissom noticed the change in her demeanor immediately and was almost sad that he had returned the question. Yet, the investigator in him desperately wanted to know more.

"Come on Sidle, astound me with your knowledge of anatomy." He prodded, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

Sara's eyes glazed over, just as they had during the difficult parts of Brass's interrogation.

"Well, I've broken my orbital bone, my jaw, my coccyx, my left and right radius and ulna, my left thumb and both ankles," she paused, thinking, "oh, and my nose twice."

Grissom's eyebrows furrowed. Children rarely broke their coccyx in the absence of an abusive guardian. He'd never known Sara to be particularly clumsy.

"How did all that happen?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Sara sighed. "When it rains, it pours. I might as well tell you."

Grissom tried to meet her eye, but she avoided his expertly.

"Okay, here's my life in a nutshell. When I was 5, my father died in a car accident. My mother had a live-in boyfriend named Chuck who hated the fact that my brother and I existed and let us know it with his fists. When my mom and he would fight, someone had to fulfill his needs and for a while, he went to my brother, but after awhile, he decided that was gay so he turned his attentions toward me. When I was 12, I said something that really pissed him off and I honestly think he was trying to kill me. My mother killed him, was sent to prison and my brother and I went to foster care. I went through four different houses and only the final house was better than living with my mom and Chuck. So anyway, to answer you question, Chuck had a large role to play in breaking my bones."

Sara sounded detached as she recalled her story. It almost seemed like she was reading a script in her head, one that had been repeated to numerous counselors, social workers and law enforcement officials throughout her childhood.

"Sara, I'm so sorry. I wish that your childhood had been different," Grissom said earnestly. His visions of Sara at a church picnic with yellow ribbons in her hair were replaced by the nightmare of a gaunt child cowering from an abusive adult.

"Me too," she said, her eyes meeting his for the first time in ages. He tried to read her emotions, but it seemed like they were buried so deeply that they would only emerge in dreams or flashbacks.

"Anyway Grissom, I asked you about the bones because I was hoping you could help me toss some garbage bags over these bad boys," Sara said. "I'm desperate to take a bath."

Truth be told, Sara wanted to scrub her skin where those bastards had touched her. An image of herself as a seven year old child scrubbing away Chuck's memory flashed in her mind and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Grissom returned with the garbage bags and proceeded to secure her casts in their waterproof pockets. His hands were tender and gentle, so unlike the hands of most men that Sara had ever met. She felt protected in his care.

Sara shook her head at the thought. 'Gil Grissom will break your heart again,' a part of her thought, 'you need to protect yourself and protect your heart.'

Grissom wheeled Sara toward the bathroom, discovering at the last possible moment that the chair was too wide to fit through the doorway.

"Griss, I can handle it from here," Sara said, rising on her one good foot.

She swayed with the effort and if Grissom hadn't stuck out a supporting arm when he did, she would have fallen. He was silent as he helped her sit on the toilet.

"Grissom, really, I don't need any more help. I'll be fine." Sara was annoyed.

Grissom studied her face for a minute before he nodded. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

An hour later, Sara emerged from the bathroom. Her skin was flushed from the heat of her bath and her hair was dripping wet. She was clad only in a towel.

That's how Grissom saw her. A goddess on one foot. He was so preoccupied by the soft curve of her legs and the smooth skin above her breasts that he barely heard her request for clothes.

As he handed her loose grey cotton pants and a black t-shirt, she started to sway again and he caught her just as she lost consciousness.

"Sara! Dammit," Grissom said, although a part of him acknowledged his good fortune. After all, Sara Sidle was nearly naked and soaking wet in his arms.

After swearing several more times, Grissom carried Sara to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. The towel had shifted in the course of their travels and both of her breasts were exposed.

Grissom looked down—he was still a man after all—and noticed their round perfection before his eyes focused on the dark fingertip bruises on each breast.

He quickly grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, careful not to touch any of her worst wounds.

'Now for the hard part,' Grissom thought to himself.

He eyed the towel bunched around Sara's waist and before he could stop himself, he pulled it out from under her.

Despite his best efforts to get her pants on as soon as possible, Grissom felt himself harden at the sight of her flat belly and rounded thighs. An image of those thighs wrapped around him in a flurry of pleasure passed through his mind, fueling his growing erection.

Just as Grissom maneuvered Sara's pants over her hips, she began to stir.

She opened her eyes and before her defenses could go up, Grissom was astounded by the depth of her pain and vulnerability. She looked innocent and betrayed.

"Grissom?" Sara mumbled.

"Yeah Sara, it's me. You passed out and we're in the bedroom now."

Sara gave him an odd look. "How the hell did I get clothes on?"

Grissom blushed and as the realization that Grissom had seen her stark naked descended on Sara's consciousness, she blushed as well. Then she started laughing.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"It's just, look at us. We're two grown adults, we're CSIs and we're both blushing and embarrassed about this. We see naked people all the time!" Sara laughed.

Grissom smiled at her. He wondered if his body would just be another naked body to Sara.

After several days of negotiating the house and munching on Grissom's culinary creations, Sara was bored. Her body still ached, her bruises had morphed into a hideous purplish-yellow color and Grissom still wouldn't allow her to listen to her scanner.

"You should enjoy your vacation, Sara. You need to get away from work," he chided her when he put in on a shelf beyond her reach knowing that she wouldn't hazard falling off a footstool or chair to get to it.

She bristled at the memory. She nearly died when she woke up and noticed that all of her forensic books and magazines had been stashed away. But she'd gotten her revenge.

Nick took the opportunity to visit her while Grissom was away and he snuck her some case files to review and some paperwork to go over.

'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' Sara grumbled to herself.

Yet Grissom had discovered those as well.

'He's determined to keep me bored!' she whined.

And that's precisely when her devious plot developed in her mind.

'If Grissom wants to torture me, that's fine,' she thought. 'But two can play that game.'

And so, Sara went through her closet and found her sexiest, comfortable outfits. She made an effort to smile and laugh. She wore perfume and rubbed Grissom's shoulders when he came home from the half shifts he was working.

Yes. Sara was enacting phase I of the seduction of Gil Grissom.


	8. An Unusual Proposal

The first thing Grissom noticed as he opened the door to Sara's apartment was the smell—a warm, sensual vanilla. The dim light was emphasized by the sensual music floating out of her stereo. His eyes flickered over the sea of candles illuminating the room before they settled on Sara.

Sara was lying on her couch in crimson red lingerie and she was rubbing her fingertips over her stomach and along her collarbones.

His heart started to beat faster and his palms became sweaty as his brain refused to permit his speech.

He walked toward her and sat on a chair next to the couch. "Sara," he began as his eyes slid up and down her thighs.

She smiled. 'It's working,' she thought.

She sat up, leaning toward Grissom seductively. "Welcome home, handsome," she purred, sliding a hand up his arm. She stood and knelt in front of him, running both hands up his thighs.

Grissom's mind was full of so many contradictory thoughts that he couldn't seem to articulate any of them. His body wanted to ravage her, his mind wanted to make love to her and his sense of propriety was calling him all sorts of horrible names.

Sara's lips descended on his and he felt as though his entire life had been made for this moment. If true love could be encapsulated in a kiss or a moment, this was it.

And then, it was over. Sara backed away from him.

"Look, I…I" Sara stuttered. Tears of embarrassment, humiliation and fear ran down her face and she grabbed an Afghan and wrapped it around herself before turning her back to Grissom. She was consumed by fear, desire and shame.

Grissom was still attempting to figure out exactly what had happened, when Sara started talking through her tears.

"I'm a freak, Grissom. You need to go. Give your heart to someone who matters," she sobbed. "You don't need someone like me holding you back."

Grissom sighed heavily and sat down next to Sara on the couch. "Sara, it's okay," he said, rubbing her back gently.

She whirled around, her tear-stained face still contorted with grief. "It's okay?" she said, her voice taking on the volume and pitch of increasing hysteria. "THIS IS NOT OKAY!" She screamed. "It's not okay that these guys attacked me. It's not okay that I was beaten senseless more times than I can count as a child. It's not okay that I'm in love with you and I'll take your shit over and over again because I'm used to being treated like crap. It's not okay, Grissom."

Grissom wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest. He rocked her back and forth gently as grief tore through her body. After her tears had subsided, Grissom broke his silence.

"I love you too, Sara," Grissom whispered into her hair. "I've loved you since the day I met you."

Sara sniffled. "You have an odd way of showing it."

"I'll have to remedy that," he kissed the top of her head.

Grissom and Sara fell into an easy rhythm. Sara's bruises had faded completely after three weeks and she was constantly planting kisses on Grissom's head as he worked on paperwork.

"Seriously Gil, I think Ecklie must be having a heart attack with you getting all this paperwork done on time," Sara teased, running her fingers through his curly salt and pepper hair.

Grissom smiled at her, painfully aware that his time with her was coming to an end.

Sara grabbed the pencil out of his hand and stuck it down her arm cast to scratch a painful itch.

"You're not supposed to do that," Grissom ordered.

"Are you going to stop me?" Sara countered, still scratching.

"Maybe," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sara laughed at him. And kept scratching. "Argh! I can't wait until this damn thing comes off."

Grissom's smile faded a little. "It's only three more days."

"You know," Sara said shyly, "I still might need help around the house after these casts come off."

The supervisor in Grissom spoke. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said.

Sara felt like she had been slapped across the face. "Why not?" she asked testily.

Grissom smiled. "Because I might just fall completely and irrevocably in love with you."

Sara plopped onto his lap.

"I hate to inform you of this, but I think you're too late," she said smiling.

Grissom initiated the kiss. He cradled her as his mouth explored hers with ravenous passion. Desire rocketed through his body and Sara could feel his excitement from her position on his lap.

She broke their connection and stared into his eyes.

"If you start this, you know that you can't stop. You can't push me away," Sara said softly.

Grissom leaned his head down again. "I can't imagine why I'd want to."

They kissed like teenagers when Grissom broke their kiss.

"Sara?"

Her eyes were still closed, her mouth partly open. "Hmmm."

"Look at me," he said quietly but firmly.

She opened her eyes and stared into his. He looked grim and serious.

"Sara, I need to ask you something."

Sara nodded, her mind conjuring up all sorts of horrible things that could emerge from his mouth next.

"Will you marry me?" he said, pulling out a black velvet box from under a case file next to him.

Sara nodded. "Yes," she said, kissing him.

Grissom slipped the ring on her finger and stood, helping Sara to her feet in the process.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he began to wander off toward the bedroom.

"I'm getting our coats," he said.

"What? Why?"

"I wouldn't want you to be cold when we walk down the aisle."

Sara gaped at him. "You want to get married, NOW?"

Grissom nodded.

"Why not?"

Sara shrugged as they headed toward the door.


End file.
